Bite Me: Act One, Scene One

The office building is old and weary, much like the workers inside of it. The carpet is stained various colors: coffee stains, jelly donut stains, general wear-and-tear stains. In the “lounge room” of the office building there is a kitchen with a small, plastic, off-white table with grey folding tables, a counter on top of which are an old coffee machine, a small sink, a microwave, a box of stale donuts, dirty coffee mugs, and a box of low-calorie candies that have been in the kitchen as long as it has been an office building (about twelve years). There is also a snack machine and drink machine, each with fat-free or reduced fat snacks and beverages. On one of the walls is a large portrait of an old, ugly man named Mr. Doug Johnson, the manager of the company.1

On the table is an ashtray where a still lit cigarette rests, waiting for its user. The weak light bulbs flicker as they lose the fight to stay lit. Soon, the janitor will come and replace them, just as Mr. Doug Johnson replaces his workers without a second thought. His portrait fills the “lounge room” with a sense of despair and uselessness. Finally, as though it could take no more, one of the light bulbs dies and a few minutes later a second bulb flickers to its uselessness. Two weak light bulbs are left in the hazy room burning as strongly as they can before the janitor, an older man with a receding hairline and beer-belly dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit with dark brown boots, will also replace them, though they are still capable of burning for a while.2

JANITOR (as he empties the waste basket and cleans the coffee mugs): Never can git a peaceful day, always someone complainin’ ‘bout sutton. Oh, the waste basket’s full, oh I’ve dropped my protein bar wrapper, won’t you pick it up, Mr. Brantley? I’m sure you’ve got nothing better to do. No floors to wax, no carpets to vacuum, no Johnson to wait on. All of them are so sick. I cain’t git anything done ‘round here! Always someone who wants me to do sutton that they know they can do on their own time! An’ that Drake is the worst of them all! Always acting all superior, like I ain’t got no sense or sutton. Cain’t hardly even focus on waxing the floors, he’s so in my business. And when I says to him, I says to him all clearly, “Sir, I got to do my work. These floors here need waxin’, I’ll git right on it soon’s I can, but I’d appreciate if you could let me do my job ‘fore I go gettin’ the dust off yore desk space, which cain’t be that dusty if you work there everyday,” he’s still cryin’ and carryin’ on about how sutton ain’t completely to his standards. Act like Johnson does, that one. Thinks he’s so smart ‘cause he speaks the “King’s Anglish” and used to live up in a fancy, big ole castle in Romania or sutton like that. Thinks he’s the bees’ knees, that Drake. But I reads his file sometimes when I can git the chance. Got a lot o’ dirt on his shoes, he does. Kilt a person back in Romania, went to court over it but got away ‘cause he’s got the money to do it. His son, I heard him say this on the phone one day when I just happened to be walkin’ by him on the streets, kilt lots of people all over the world and his wife, I knows for a fact, is cheatin’ on him with that strange fella, oh what’s his name? Martin, that’s it. Willem Martin, he’s a strange fella, that one, don’t you think? Yore a light bulb, why am I talking to you ‘bout all this, huh?3

(BRANTLEY twists the dead bulbs and throws them in his large garbage can he had been pulling. He exits the room and returns shortly after with two new bulbs and twists them properly into place. After extinguishing the lit cigarette, he exits the room and closes the door behind him. The squeaking of the wheels can be heard for a few seconds as it fades away with his foot steps. A man with a small gut and a full head of jet black hair walks in the room. He is dressed in a dashing suit, all black, and in his hand is an empty coffee mug. He walks immediately to the coffee machine, pours a cup, sets it in the microwave, grabs a donut, and sits down at the table.)4

DRAKE: Some people never change, even if it may be for the best. People just don’t want to work like they used to anymore. Coffee never hits the spot these days. I wish I could give in to my thirst. This used to all be so simple. I never had to worry about it; it was so easy to quench it. But now, things are getting so different. Everybody is changing but the people that need to change. People like me and Vendetta and Willem and the children. None of us have changed, but the times around us are changing. Perhaps Mr. Brantley is right: Some things are better left alone. The important things need to be the top priority. (he stands and retrieves his coffee from the microwave and sits back down. Instead of eating his donut, he crumbles it up between his fingers, letting the crumbs fall on the table and the floor. He drinks some of his coffee and, after the donut has been destroyed, stands and exits the room, but walks in a few moments later, accompanied by an impeccably dressed woman with rich red hair and extremely fair skin. Her face is a perfect heart, but her own is cruel and black.)5

DRAKE: So, Vendetta, what are you doing tonight?6

VENDETTA: I don’t know. I was thinking about going to see a movie with the girls, grab a bite to eat and maybe go dancing.7

DRAKE (sits down in one of the chairs): Oh. What movie?8

VENDETTA: We haven’t decided yet.9

DRAKE: What time will you be home?10

VENDETTA: You know, you’re asking a lot of questions, Edmund. There really is no need to worry about anything. I’ll be home either late tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on whether or not we have any drinks.11

DRAKE: I just want to make sure that you’ll be safe.12

VENDETTA: Sure. That’s what you always say. Every time I want to go out, you always get so suspicious like I’m going off to do something I shouldn’t. You’re not my father you know.13

DRAKE: No, but you are my wife and I expect to know where you are so I can know whether or not I’ll need to come pick you up if you’ve been drinking.14

VENDETTA: You think I’m going to his house don’t you?15

DRAKE (lying): Of course not!16

VENDETTA: Why don’t you trust me?17

DRAKE: Of course I trust you!18

VENDETTA: The way you express that trust sure is something!19

DRAKE: I’m sorry that I don’t want you to get hurt or anything.20

VENDETTA: You really are bad at lying you know.21

DRAKE: I don’t have time to argue with you. It’s time I got back to work.22

VENDETTA: Fine then! Go. See if I care. 23

DRAKE: I will then! (the door slams as he shuts it harshly behind him after he exits the room)24

VENDETTA: Willem treats me better anyway. (she rests her head on the table after taking a seat. She is tired and almost falls asleep there, but she does not. After a few moments, she sighs, stands, and exits the room quietly.)25